


Collared

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Genre: PWP, KINK: BDSM, M/M, Rating: NC-17 - Freeform, character: jazz, character: ratchet, kink: master/pet, smut: sticky, verse: g1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> It's a mutually beneficial arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collared

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Jazz/Ratchet  
>  **Warnings:** BDSM, Master/Pet, Sticky  
>  **Notes:** Anonymous Commission based on [this kink prompt here](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=15029141#t15029141). Anon was good with me sliding just outside of super animalistic behavior for Ratchet here, which I really appreciate. I LOVE Master/Pet kink, and was really excited to get to do this one. Enjoy! ^_^

The lights were dim, the bluesy music soft and low, and Jazz was sitting in a comfortable sprawl in his favorite chair. Next to his thigh on the seat was an open container of gelled treats. They had originally been designed as emergency rations for the Autobots to carry in their subspaces in case of capture or space bridge accident, but -as everyone quickly discovered- they were _really_ tasty on top of being nutrient-dense.

They made the perfect treat for well-behaved pets.

Ratchet rested his helm against Jazz’s knee, gaze following a black hand as it reached into that container and lifted a treat free. Ratchet tipped his chin up, mouth opening to gently take the offered gel, then purred as Jazz stroked his helm. It was an absent touch as Jazz continued to read from his datapad, but soothing all the same. Some nights he would read to Ratchet, but this was a quiet, calm evening, and neither of them wanted to fill it with words.

Not that Ratchet could.

They discovered very early on in their arrangement that Ratchet being allowed to talk meant that he thought. _Dwelled_. Thinking and dwelling were counterproductive. They were here to relax, which was something Ratchet desperately needed to do. He _needed_ to decompress and _let_ himself be cared for, set aside that constant, unending, spark-crushing worry he felt for everyone. His stress levels had been off the charts for so long, and getting cratered to forget every night wasn’t the answer. Not only because it was incredibly unhealthy, but because the Decepticons didn’t attack on a schedule. Ratchet couldn’t risk being drunk or hungover when he might need to steal the spark of a friend back from Primus’ hands. If allowed to talk, he would. He would rant and rail and vent, and do nothing but work himself up even more.

Physically, Ratchet _could_ talk, but he was locked out of his HUD completely. No scanners to check on Jazz. No internal diagnostics to distract him. No chrono even, because pets that were supposed to sit and allow themselves to be handfed, stroked, and relax next to their master did not need to know what time it was. For safety, if Ratchet said ‘stop’, they stopped, but otherwise he was to use the non-verbal cues they had decided on to convey his needs. Comms were out of the question too. If someone truly needed the Chief Medical Officer, Jazz would receive a ping and could bring an end to the session.

As for Jazz- Jazz liked knowing he could be kind. That he could be caring and gentle. It didn’t matter that everyone witnessed him doing it every day all the time. His easy smile and jovial personality were an intentional front, one he was concerned didn’t go too far beneath the surface. Being alone, being _completely_ responsible for the needs and happiness of another grounded and relaxed Jazz. It allowed him to prove to himself that he was more than the Autobots’ dirty secret, or the merciless monster he’d had to become at times for the sake of their Cause and the lives around him.

Ratchet trusted him implicitly.

He also wanted another of those treats and purred louder while nudging against Jazz’s leg.

A smile curved Jazz’s mouth, and his visor brightened a little. “Ok. One more cuz ya’re such a good pet.”

Ratchet savored the last treat, letting it melt on his tongue as Jazz replaced the lid and shut down his datapad.

“Gettin’ late,” Jazz announced, one hand caressing Ratchet’s helm. “Time for recharge.” The tip of a finger traced the edge of the collar around Ratchet’s neck. “Gonna sleep at my feet tonight, pet?”

Tempting, but Ratchet had the early shift tomorrow, so he lifted his chin and pushed up on his knees a bit to signal Jazz to remove the collar. It came off with a light click of the locking mechanism at the back, then the soft length of mesh metal was placed in Ratchet’s hands for safekeeping.

“Good?” Jazz asked.

Ratchet watched his systems reboot as his HUD flickered back to life, and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” He smiled. Talking always felt so weird after hours of near-silence. “Ready to drop into recharge.”

“Can stay if ya like,” Jazz offered as Ratchet climbed to his feet. He didn’t always offer, and when he did, Ratchet only occasionally accepted.

“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to sprawl over my berth and snore.”

Jazz chuckled and stood to see Ratchet out. “Alright, my mech. Comm me if ya need anythin’, yeah?”

“Same goes for you,” Ratchet replied, then brushed a kiss over Jazz’s cheek just before the door opened. “Thanks again, Jazz. I needed that tonight.”

“Me too, Ratch. Sleep tight.”

~ | ~

Ratchet didn’t even need to look toward the door to know it was Jazz. The medic had just moments before discharged his last patient, but it had been three harrowing days. The battle had been vicious as Megatron threw two gestalts at them in his effort to claim a hydro-electric plant for himself. Everyone had lived, but there had been some serious injuries, and Ironhide had been critical. He survived again, but it had been a near thing at first. Tension Ratchet had been slowly crushed under for days was beginning to make itself felt, and Jazz turning up was exactly what he needed.

“I think I need more tonight,” Ratchet said in a low voice.

“Figured ya would,” Jazz replied. He offered a cube of energon, which Ratchet took without protest. He needed that too, and watched as the Saboteur moved around the medbay, cleaning here and there while the medic checked his tools and put them where they belonged.

They didn’t linger, and before long Jazz was keying open his door and gesturing Ratchet in. The medic moved to the center of the room, knelt, and pulled his collar from his subspace to offer it up to Jazz. It was taken and locked around his neck, Jazz’s fingers smoothing over the mesh, then along Ratchet’s jawline before stopping just under his chin. With the collar on, Ratchet’s HUD shut down, and he reminded himself not to speak.

“Tsk tsk. I’ve got me a grubby pet,” Jazz said. He wasn’t wrong either. Ratchet was covered in the dust and grime from the battle as well as fluids and blood from repairing the wounded. The only parts of him that were truly clean were his hands and forearms. “Up ya get. Bath time!”

Ratchet obeyed and hurried after Jazz as he led the way to his washrack. He stood in the very middle of it as Jazz set the water temperature, then doused him. Ratchet shivered, plating loosening as the volcano-heated water poured down over him and ran under his plating. It was almost too hot, which made it perfect. It melted the gummy residue and rinsed away the tacky, sticky energon blood. Dingy water swirled into the drain by his feet, and Ratchet sighed.

The showerhead was placed back in the bracket and water turned off for the moment. “Kneel,” Jazz ordered as he picked up a scrub brush and cleanser. “Good pet.” Ratchet’s helm was stroked, then a sudsy brush began to work in thorough circles from the top down. Now and then Jazz would turn the water back on to rinse him, then go back and scrub some more. “Bein’ so good,” he murmured and continued to scrub. Ratchet stood when told to, lifted his feet, turned. Whatever Jazz said, he obeyed, gratefully handing the mech full authority over him. Had he been told to lick the drain, he probably would have knelt and been pushing his face into the stone floor before fully registering the words. Not that Jazz would ever tell him to do such a thing. Water wasn’t the best thing for their tanks, and he wouldn’t harm his pet.

Drying off was just as thorough an affair as being washed, then Jazz grabbed the polish and a soft cloth before leading his pet out to the main room of his quarters again. Ratchet knelt, purring as firm fingers rubbed tiny circles all over his plating. Treats accompanied the many soft, “Good pet,” comments from Jazz. Each one helping boost Ratchet’s energy and fill that empty hollow in his tanks.

Crimson gleamed and white glowed by the time Jazz was done, and Ratchet was panting and hot, his circuits buzzing. Another treat was held out, and Ratchet took it with a low purr, mouth closing over Jazz’s fingers to suck lightly as he drew back. The blue of the visor shaded to a deeper cobalt, and Jazz’s vents hitched.

“Good. Ya did real good.” Jazz stroked Ratchet’s helm with a smile, his voice huskier in arousal. “Lookin’ all shiny and pretty.” He crouched, both hands flowing over white plating. “Smooth, pet. Real smooth. Could pet ya all night long.”

Fingers dipped into transformation seams and glided with a light touch over cables, drawing a shiver and a flash of heat from Ratchet. He purred again and pushed into those touches, his optics falling shut. For a time, there was nothing in the universe but the kind and sure hands teasing him into shaking need so gently.

Jazz gave Ratchet’s helm a light stroke. “Need somethin’, pet?” he asked, his voice betraying his own need.

Yes. Pit, _yes_ he did! Ratchet twisted to put his back to Jazz, then leaned forward to brace his forearms on the floor, aft right up in the air in the clearest sign of ‘’face me’ anyone could ever give.

Jazz chuckled even as his vents cycled faster, one hand going to Ratchet’s aft, his thumb teasing over the hot panel. Ratchet let it snap open and arched his back more while spreading his knees. “Bet ya need a bit of gentle luvin’, huh, pet?” he asked, thumb too light on the slick surface of Ratchet’s array.

Ratchet bit back a curse and managed to limit it to a growl, then bounced his aft back toward Jazz. Fragger knew him. They’d been doing this for a _while _now. Jazz was teasing when he knew damn well what Ratchet really wanted.__

__“Ok, ok,” Jazz said with a laugh. “My good little pet want me ta frag him through the floor?”_ _

___Oh, Primus, yes!_ Ratchet thought and whimpered. He rocked on his knees a little, spreading them more when Jazz settled behind him. Both hands rested on Ratchet’s aft, Jazz’s thumbs stroking and pressing at the sensitive, thinner metal of his array, and Ratchet keened as he dropped his chest to the floor. Begging with words was out of the question, but he could whimper and whine with the best of them, and did so. Loudly._ _

__“I s’pose I can take that as a yes,” Jazz murmured. His panel clicked lightly, and his spike pushed out to slide along Ratchet’s array._ _

__Fire licked at Ratchet’s internals, and he whimpered again. Jazz rocked against him a few times, then let the tip of his spike nudge in past the first ring of sensor nodes. Ratchet made a strangled noise and shivered hard enough to make his plating chime. Primus, he needed it, and he needed it _hard_ and _now_!_ _

__“Easy,” Jazz crooned, his hands pushing up Ratchet’s back, then pulling back down to grip his hips. “Easy. I’ll take care of ya.”_ _

__Then he plunged deep, hauling Ratchet’s hips back into the hard thrust. Ratchet cried out before he could stop himself, valve snugging down tight against the spike. He grit his teeth and growled against the floor as Jazz set a blissfully rough pace. Charge tingled up his valve, and a knot of lust tightened down low in his belly. Pleasure sang over his sensornet and made his spark pulse harder, faster, keeping pace with the slick, driving glide as Jazz pounded into him. His respiration came in gasps and desperate panting that did nothing to cool the inferno that swelled through his lines. He clawed after his overload, fingers scraping the floor, nearly feral in the aching _need_ for it._ _

__When release finally broke over Ratchet, he threw his weight back, trying to take Jazz as deep as he could. His back arched, the sensitive metal of his chevron pressed hard to the floor. Wave after wave surged through him, stealing sound and thought, and almost consciousness. Jazz moaned and his hands tightened on Ratchet’s hips as he thrust a few more times, then heat flooded Ratchet’s valve, and he whimpered as a hard aftershock made his valve squeeze down again._ _

__“Primus,” Jazz gasped, then slumped forward against Ratchet’s back._ _

__For a long few minutes, neither of them moved. Vents calmed to something closer to normal, and Jazz eventually drew back with a last caress to Ratchet’s aft. It took effort, but Ratchet pushed himself up and sat back on his heels. He could feel the fluids leaking out of his valve, but didn’t worry over it. They could clean up later. He made sure Jazz was looking at him, then lifted his chin to expose the collar._ _

__“Yeah?” Jazz asked, but he was already reaching to unclasp it. “Ya ok?”_ _

__Ratchet took the collar back and nodded as he rubbed the mesh between his finger and thumb. “Good,” he answered, voice rasping with a bit of static._ _

__Jazz tilted his helm, visor brightening. “Ya sure?”_ _

__“I’m sure,” Ratchet said and smiled. The collar was tucked away and he reached a hand toward Jazz. “You? That was pretty intense.”_ _

__“Pit yeah. Ya wanna stay? Have a bit of energon and get a good night’s ‘charge in?”_ _

__Ratchet nodded. He didn’t think he had the energy to get back to his quarters and wanted the company tonight anyway. Jazz returned with a cube, and they sat together on the floor with their backs against a chair and shoulders touching while they fueled._ _

__“Quick rinse, then bed?” Jazz asked._ _

__“Yes, please.” Ratchet cycled his vents, then shoved his way unsteadily to his feet. “Frag. I needed that.”_ _

__Jazz snickered as he stood, then nudged Ratchet toward the washrack. “Go on. I’ll get the floor and join ya in a sec.”_ _

__Ratchet paused just a moment and leaned down to brush a kiss against Jazz’s cheek. “Thanks, Jazz.”_ _


End file.
